


bandaid

by commodorecliche



Category: Here U Are (DJun)
Genre: Beginnings, Conflict Resolution, Discussion of feelings, Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Talking, bandaids as a metaphor, idk how else to tag this, it's conflict resolution and trying to move forward from what happened ya know, there is mention of Lin Xiang but that's it, this is the post-chapter-38 ficlet we need i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-19 23:38:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14883437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commodorecliche/pseuds/commodorecliche
Summary: bandaid.noun. a makeshift, limited, or temporary solution.One conversation won't fix what's happened, but a bandaid is certainly better than an open wound.





	bandaid

**Author's Note:**

> wow, so this is the first time I've ever been the first fic in a fandom's AO3 tag? that's crazy but pretty cool. anyway, seriously this is just the post-38 conversation I was dying to see, and I apparently just couldn't wait till next Wednesday. 
> 
> (ps, can you tell I hate writing summaries? cause I hate writing summaries.)

**::**

The lake on campus is beautiful in the mornings - it always is - and on any other day, Yu Yang might have thought to appreciate it. Save for his hangover, this might have been the start of a good day. It’s a perfect morning: clear blue skies, not too warm, and the light from the sun bounces across the surface of the water in a wash of golden yellow. 

But he doesn’t care about any of that right now. 

Right now, the only thing he cares about is Li Huan’s lithe form sitting cross-legged on the knoll ahead of him. He’s alone - as he almost always is - but there’s something far more profound about this solitude than the aura of seclusion that usually surrounds him. It’s  _ isolation _ , self-imposed or otherwise, and something about it hits Yu Yang square in the chest.

Li Huan is faced away from him, his gaze set out across the shimmering lake in front of him. Yu Yang can’t help but take a moment to look at him. Li Huan is slouching, spine curved, head low - a position he doesn’t normally adopt. When they had sat at the piano together, he’d sat upright and proper at Yu Yang’s side. When he eats, he keeps a balanced posture. But now? Now he’s slumped over himself, and Yu Yang isn’t sure if it’s a result of lazy posture or a low mood. 

_ He should really sit up… his back will ache if he doesn’t _ , Yu Yang thinks to himself.

Silently, he watches and wishes for Li Huan to just straighten up, to put some  _ confidence  _ back into his figure. But no amount of silent will makes Li Huan’s stance change.  

Guilt pools in the pit of his stomach. This doesn’t suit him. Not at all. And for an instant, Yu Yang has to look away. 

He sucks in a long, low breath and turns his gaze back to Li Huan. It takes a moment, his head clouded with a mixture of remorse and pride, before he finally bites the bullet. He tucks his hands into his pockets and steps forward to stand at Li Huan’s side. 

Yu Yang doesn’t sit down - not at first, at least. But his sudden presence gets Li Huan’s attention. There’s no verbal acknowledgement, but out of the corner of his eye, Yu Yang sees Li Huan lift his head to stare up at him and regard him. Yu Yang clears his throat. 

“Sometimes, when the sky’s clear, I’ll come out here just before dawn and watch the sunrise,” Yu Yang starts, keeping his own gaze set out across the lake. He lifts his hand and gestures across it, towards the buildings on the opposite side, “You can’t really catch it on the horizon, but the sun always peeks up over the tops of the buildings, and casts the most peaceful, pink haze across the sky and the lake.” 

“En,” Li Huan mutters, not bothering to look in the direction Yu Yang has pointed. 

“Definitely worth getting up early,” Yu Yang tells him. 

He finally dares to glance down, and to his surprise, Li Huan is still looking up at him. Yu Yang holds his gaze. The pointed tip of his canine digs into his lower lip, nibbling at the flesh as he gestures towards the ground beside Li Huan.

“Okay if I sit?” 

Li Huan blinks a couple times; he considers the question as though it had surprised him. He tugs his eyes away from Yu Yang’s and shrugs. The gesture has a false air of composure, but the tension that has formed in Li Huan’s shoulders is obvious to them both.  

“Sure.” 

He doesn’t  _ sound  _ sure, but Yu Yang can’t say that he blames him. 

His memory of what had transpired between them the previous evening are more than a little hazy in Yang’s head. But the gist is there, and the guilt that has been growing since the moment he woke up this morning refuses to be ignored. Yu Yang pulls his hands out of his pockets and settles down onto the grass with careful, precise consideration. He crosses his legs, mirroring Li Huan, but he makes a point to keep a little space between them. He puts a few inches between their kneecaps, ensuring that they don’t touch as he gets comfortable atop the knoll.

It’s not ideal. Before the misunderstanding at the pool, Yu Yang, whether he wants to admit it or not, had come to like the easiness that had seeped into their daily interactions. He’d come to enjoy the casual way he could sit beside him, or drink with him, or patch up his injuries… 

But that easiness doesn’t exist here, and it’s a boundary he has to respect. So he maintains the gap, keeps his body a gracious few inches away from Li Huan’s, and settles for existing at a distance.

He settles for it, but he doesn’t like it. 

They sit in silence for a while - for far longer than Yu Yang had hoped they would. But this is a conversation he’s sure neither of them know how to start. Li Huan, in a show of the same solemn stoicism he always presents, says nothing. He keeps his eyes focused ahead of him, elbows resting on his legs, hands clasped in front of him. Yu Yang watches him, but doesn’t speak. He knows he’ll have to be the first - which is fair - but he isn’t ready to just yet. So he sits and he watches; watches for anything on Li Huan’s face that might clue him in to what he’s thinking. But there’s nothing - no furrowed brows, no wrinkles around his mouth, no flaring nostrils, nothing. Even the tension in his shoulders has faded since Yu Yang had first approached him.

Is he angry? Is he hurt? 

Does he not care at all? 

All at once, in the back of his head, Yu Yang remembers the way Li Huan had kissed him. Strong arm around his waist, a guiding hand on the back of his head, fervent lips pressed against his own in ardent desperation. He barely remembers the events before or after the kiss, barely remembers the details of their conversation, but he remembers  _ that _ in vivid, technicolor detail. 

He remembers the tremble in Li Huan’s lips, the quick inhale of breath he’d sucked through his nose when their mouths had touched. 

He remembers the look of confusion and pain on Li Huan’s face when he’d pushed him, yelled at him and told him to scram. 

No. Li Huan cares, and deep down, Yu Yang knows that. Li Huan just refuses to show it. 

Yu Yang glances away, his eyes focusing instead on the grass in front of him. He snags a few blades between his fingers and rips them up from the ground. Twirling them between his fingertips, he rubs them together until the green of their flesh rubs off onto his own. It’s a distraction - but not a good one. 

He heaves a long sigh, tossing the blades of grass back down to the ground where he’d stolen them. 

“Li Huan, about- about last night… I just want to say I’m-” 

Li Huan doesn’t let him finish. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

Yu Yang cranes his head and stares at the other man, his brow furrowed. He watches Li Huan, searching for some sort of explanation, but he finds none, and Li Huan doesn’t return his gaze. He keeps his eyes trained ahead, his face as aloof and stoic as it was the very first time they’d met. His eyes are distant, just as they’d been when the two of them were nothing more than strangers. 

But it’s almost worse than that. He doesn’t just feel like a stranger; for a brief moment, with little more than empty apathy on Li Huan’s face, Yu Yang feels like an enemy. 

Something painful twists up in his gut. 

He shakes his head, tries to ignore the discomfort he feels at Li Huan’s detachment.  
  
“No, I do.” 

“You don’t.” 

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry!” Yu Yang blurts out with a huff, desperate to get his apology out before Li Huan has a chance to cut him off again. 

A beat of silence passes between them. Yang could swear that it extends for far longer than the actual few seconds it takes up. It’s an uneasy moment of unsurety and discomfort that Yu Yang doesn’t know how to remedy. His baser instincts tell him to be upset, to be angry that Li Huan hasn’t accepted his apology, that in this moment he won’t even acknowledge it. But he knows better than that. After the things he’d said, he shouldn’t expect an apology to fix it. 

He doesn’t remember half of the harshness he had spewed at Li Huan - his brain too fogged with alcohol to have formed fully coherent memories - but he remembers the taste of the anger on his tongue. He remembers the bitterness and upset. 

His stomach turns because somewhere, at the back of his throat, he can still feel its burn.

He swallows it down and tries to forget the taste. 

Li Huan still hasn’t looked at him, and for a brief moment, Yu Yang wonders if the silence is all that Li Huan might give him. But, to his surprise, Li Huan shrugs. 

“Nothing to apologize for.” 

His voice is tight and Yang can’t read him. Li Huan isn’t exactly the most open person, but there was a point, before the incident at the pool, where Yang had thought that might be changing. There was a point when he had thought they were beginning to understand each other. It’s gone now, and Yu Yang knows he’s to blame. 

Yang shakes his head and dares to put a hesitant hand on Li Huan’s shoulder. He doesn’t shake him off, but he also doesn’t react to the touch, and Yang isn’t sure which he would’ve prefered. 

“I shouldn’t have said what all I said. I was… I was cruel.” 

Li Huan shrugs again and something tells Yu Yang that’s his cue to remove his hand from his companion’s shoulder. 

When he speaks, he doesn’t acknowledge Yu Yang’s comment or his apology. 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” is all he says, his eyes darting down to the grass. 

Li Huan lifts his head back up and stares out across the lake, the blankness of his gaze unchanged. He’s barely even glanced at Yu Yang since he arrived, and Yang certainly hasn’t missed this pointed avoidance. He wishes for nothing more than a brief moment of eye contact between them, but he won’t ask for it. 

Li Huan darts his tongue out across his lower lip, “I…” he pauses, as if searching for the right word, “ _ misunderstood _ … your behavior towards me.” 

Li Huan’s face doesn’t express it, but his voice is distant and almost despondent. It resonates through the air with a soft tinge of loneliness that digs straight into Yu Yang. It burrows into him, until its hollowness echoes within the cavity of his chest, grating against his ribs and sternum. 

Yu Yang can’t say it’s a feeling his unfamiliar with, but it will never be one he’s used to. 

Yu Yang slumps his head, staring down at his own legs as he inhales a long breath. If only to distract himself, he stuffs his hands into his pockets, letting his fingers toy and twiddle with the fraying threads that line them. It’s a nervous habit, but it’s comfortable. He only pauses when his fingers pass over something that isn’t frayed denim. Yu Yang stops and picks the item up. It’s soft between the tips of his fingers, but papery still, and it only takes a moment before he realizes it’s a bandaid. It must have been an extra he’d shoved into his pocket after he’d tended to Li Huan’s injuries from the bar fight. 

Yu Yang holds it for another moment, thumb and forefinger rubbing across its comforting surface. He wishes, if only for a moment, that it could help mend the cracks he made in his and Li Huan’s relationship.

He sighs and lets the bandaid go, leaving it in his pocket. 

“I didn’t mean what I said, Li Huan,” Yu Yang repeats, “I mean… No, you probably shouldn’t have kissed me like you did… But I did not mean the things I said. I was just… drunk and mad and upset.” 

Li Huan doesn’t reply at first - always so careful and selective with his words. He’s considering his response, ultimately deciding whether or not to ignore what Yu Yang has said..

He does ignore it. 

“My roommates won’t bother you anymore. I’m sorry for whatever they did to you,” is all he says. 

Yu Yang huffs, frustration beginning to mingle with the forlorn weight that lingers in his gut. 

“Will you listen to me?  _ Please _ ?” 

His throat feels tight and strained when he speaks. There’s no anger in his voice, but he knows the tension is obvious. He seems to get Li Huan’s attention this time, at least, his companion jerking his head over to - finally - meet Yu Yang’s gaze. 

Yu Yang holds it for as long as he can. 

“Thank you for what you did for me. I was cruel to you and you… you came to help me anyway. And when you came to me, I was cruel again. You took care of me when you didn’t have to, when I didn’t deserve it. And I  _ know  _ it doesn’t mean much after the fact, but I truly didn’t mean what I said. I was hurt, and upset, and I thought… I thought you had tried to hurt me too. And I lashed out without bothering to even hear your side of the story.” 

“I know the counselor  _ did  _ ask you to look after me.” 

Yu Yang blinks. 

“Did you talk to her about it?” 

Li Huan shakes his head. 

“No. But there was a lot of... honesty... in your voice when you said that last night.” 

“Oh.” 

“You don’t have to babysit me, Yu Yang, okay?” 

“I’m not babysi-” 

“I’m fine on my own.” 

Li Huan’s voice isn’t angry. Not irritated or curt. It just  _ is _ , like he’s simply stating the obvious. But his tone still trails off, the words soft and unsure on the backend, like he doesn’t fully believe the assertion himself. Yu Yang bites his lip and drops his eyes back to the ground. He shifts a bit on his legs, feeling his left starting to tingle beneath the weight of his body, but ultimately doesn’t readjust his position. He’s almost afraid to move, afraid that should he move a fraction closer, he might scare Li Huan away. 

Yu Yang wants to speak, but the words won’t leave his lips, stuck to his tongue like sandpaper. 

But what can he even say to that? He can’t tell Li Huan he  _ isn’t  _ okay on his own - Yu Yang is sure he’d get by just fine without him. But he also knows that there’s a part of Li Huan that doesn’t want to be alone. A part of him that doesn’t  _ want  _ to just get by on his own.

“I know you are,” Yu Yang tells him, “but you don’t have to be.” 

“I suppose,” Li Huan replies. 

And that’s the end of it. Li Huan straightens his back, stretching into the motion as he does; he unfolds his legs and pushes himself up to stand. Li Huan is tall, but from his view on the ground, Li Huan is a colossus that towers over him. And yet he’s not imposing - he never is. For all his talk of how people had always been afraid of him, Yu Yang just can’t see that side. He sees softness and vulnerability in his figure, an uneasy openness in the way he stands. Yu Yang watches, and tries to ignore the twist in his gut, as Li Huan takes an intentional step backwards to put a little bit of space between them. 

He’s going to leave, and Yu Yang knows it. 

Li Huan stares down at him for a moment, his head tilted, like he’s considering Yu Yang. 

“You… you should talk to Lin Xiang. It’d probably do you good.” 

And with that, Li Huan nods and turns on his heel to leave. 

Yu Yang’s legs fumble to push himself up before he can even think about, desperate to stand and follow Li Huan before he can get away. He stumbles as he gets up on his feet, but still manages to snag Li Huan’s hand before he’s out of reach. Li Huan stops at the very first tug on his hand, but he doesn’t turn around or look back. Yu Yang maintains his grip, stepping forward and adjusting his fingers so he can hold Li Huan’s hand a little more securely. He tugs on it again, urging Li Huan to at least turn to face him. 

His companion doesn’t speak, but he obliges the silent request. He turns around but makes a point to avoid looking Yu Yang in the face or meeting his eyes. 

One hand still holding Li Huan’s - and he’s honestly surprised Li Huan hasn’t pulled it away - Yu Yang uses his free hand to dig down into his pocket. His fingers find the bandaid hidden there and pulls it out. If Li Huan notices it, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Yu Yang only releases Li Huan’s hand so that he can tend to the bandaid. Without a word, he peels it, lifts it to Li Huan’s face, and sticks the plaster across his companion’s cheek with care. He smooths out the edges with his thumb - allows himself a moment caress the soft skin there, as well. 

Yu Yang bites his lip. When he lifts his gaze back to Li Huan’s eyes, he’s surprised to see that his companion is actually looking back at him. Yu Yang doesn’t speak, but he smiles a small, uncomfortable smile, almost bashful, and glances back down. 

“There… Now you’re fine, heh,” Yu Yang mumbles. It’s a poor echo of the words Li Huan had said to him as he’d just a plaster across his cheek just a few nights before. But he still hopes the sentiment isn’t lost. 

To his surprise, a large but gentle hand comes to rest on his shoulder, regaining his attention. 

There’s no smile on Li Huan’s face, but there is a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. The hand on his shoulder squeezes his muscles with care for a brief second, then releases him. Yu Yang sucks in a breath, trying not to sound uneasy as he does, and sighs. He shakes his head. 

“Despite what I said, I’m not… I’m not  _ really  _ like this with everyone, you know?”

Li Huan nods. 

“I know,” he says, surety in his tone. 

“And you know, I don’t think I want to talk to Lin Xiang.” 

That doesn’t get a response, but when Yu Yang tilts his head back up, he can see Li Huan’s brow is furrowed in confusion. Yu Yang nods, more certainly this time. 

“Yeah, I… I think I’d rather talk to you.” 

A beat passes between them - short but far too long - before the corner of Li Huan’s mouth quirks up. It’s a barely-there grin, but it’s there nonetheless, and Yu Yang is grateful for whatever he can get. 

Tongue darting out across his lips, Li Huan nods. 

“Okay.” 

“Coffee?” 

Li Huan’s smile cracks a fraction more, and he nods his agreement again. 

“Yeah, I think that’d be nice.” 

**::**

**Author's Note:**

> woo! first fic for the AO3 tag, and I REALLY hope you guys liked this. I'm planning on writing more for this pairing - and future fics I write are going to contain some Spice™, so stay on the lookout for those! and if you liked this, maybe let me know! I love hearing from you guys. thank you so much for reading! can't wait to make and see more content for this manhua. 
> 
> i also wanna send a big thank you to Dani ([pilindiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pilindiel/pseuds/pilindiel)) for her input on this fic. she's wonderful and i know she'll be writing some stuff for this pairing as well!
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](http://commodorecliche.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/commodorecliche/). 
> 
> **  
> **  
> [rebloggable version](http://commodorecliche.tumblr.com/post/174710590683/bandaid-commodorecliche-here-u-are-djun-yu)  
> 


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